


go easy

by narcissablaxk



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Caring, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Tactile Daniel LaRusso, Touch Starved Johnny Lawrence, lawrusso, plot/what plot?, this is just mindless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29364624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: Based on my tumblr post "sometimes I just sit down and think my silly little thoughts about touch starved Johnny Lawrence and very tactile Daniel LaRusso."
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 26
Kudos: 215





	go easy

Johnny wondered if he was being tortured. He didn’t really believe in God, but he didn’t really _not_ believe in God either, so when he asked himself if there was some sort of divine fuckery ruining his life, he always stalled out at the phrasing of the thought and never spent too much time dwelling on what was bothering him. 

Except he was dwelling on it _now_ , standing in the deceptively serene garden of Miyagi-do, standing beside LaRusso, who was moving the kids through kata. Johnny never participated in kata – when asked, he said it was “pussy shit,” but he really never learned how to do it, so he just…didn’t do it. Especially not in front of the kids, who picked it all up so quickly Johnny was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to keep up. 

And Senseis don’t fall behind their students. 

Yesterday, he made a snide comment about how half the class would be out on Friday for Valentine’s Day, since Miguel was back with Sam, and Hawk was (somehow) with Demetri, and he knew his son would be out with Moon, Aisha would be with Tory, and the list somehow managed to go on and on. He felt like some weird sort of karate pimp. 

And LaRusso had laughed, because that’s what he _did_ , even when Johnny’s jokes were half-assed and not very funny, and dropped his hand to Johnny shoulder, the palm moving slowly down to the middle of his shoulder blades before retracting completely. 

Johnny couldn’t even remember now if he had been laughing when it happened, because all he could remember was the warmth of his hand, the full spread of Daniel’s fingers on his skin, the way he felt heat shoot up to his neck and his face, the way he jerked away from him, and Daniel’s confused face afterward. 

How do you tell your smug, sarcastic, little shit of a karate co-sensei that you just weren’t used to being touched anymore? At least, unless it was a fight. 

Even saying it in his head sounded sad and pathetic. He was a _badass_ , dammit, he didn’t worry about shit like holding hands or someone putting their hand on his shoulder. He certainly didn’t think about it for hours after, trying to figure out a way to make LaRusso do it again without actively accepting that he was thinking exactly that. 

Except that he was thinking about it, a whole day later, LaRusso’s confused face branded into his mind’s eye, confused and just a little hurt, and Johnny didn’t want to ruin the tenuous peace they had, not when they were working together and the students seemed to enjoy it. They laughed when they bickered and they were improving by leaps and bounds. The combination of Miyagi and Cobra Kai karate was working, and Johnny wasn’t about to ruin that because of a hand. 

And because he couldn’t stop thinking about the hand in question. 

“Sensei Lawrence?” Daniel’s voice yanked him out of his thoughts and the kids were looking at him, confused, and so was Daniel. Johnny looked over at him – Daniel’s face was still guarded, even a day later, like he was trying to hide something in his face. 

“Yeah, uh, Mr. Diaz, lead them through warm-ups, please,” he said. 

Daniel stepped back from their little platform, nothing but a porch when it wasn’t being used for karate, and stepped into his space. Johnny didn’t _want_ to be so damn aware of it, but he was painfully aware of the little bit of space between the material of their gis, of the way Daniel’s hand lifted from his side like he was going to touch him and then fell back down. 

“You’re being weird,” LaRusso said, because they didn’t ask if the other was okay, because that would seem too personal, too caring. Instead they threw out words and hoped that they wouldn’t knock each other too off balance. Most of the time, they succeeded. 

“No I’m not,” Johnny said, lifting one shoulder. “I just zoned out, that’s all.” 

“Okay,” he said, like it was a question, like he didn’t believe him. “Are you good for a demonstration after warmups? Or did you need to go somewhere and zone out?” 

“Shut up, LaRusso,” Johnny muttered, but he let out a half-laugh anyway. “You gonna try to beat me up in front of the children?” 

“Just a little, Lawrence,” Daniel replied, lifting an eyebrow. “Scared you can’t take it?” 

_The hand on his shoulder, sliding over to his back, hot and soft and –_

“Senseis don’t get scared,” Johnny sniped back. “Let’s go.”

***

Daniel watched Johnny closely as the kids finished their warmups. Johnny was usually pretty good about being transparent about his feelings, usually to the detriment of the rest of the conversation. Daniel had already lost count of how many times Johnny had announced to the room at large that he was annoyed, or that what someone else said was stupid, and everyone had gone eerily silent afterward. 

But today, he was being quiet about whatever was bugging him, and Daniel was too curious to just let him be. 

Maybe it had something to do with the weird moment they’d had the day before. Daniel had put his hand on Johnny’s shoulder, something he was pretty sure he’d done a thousand times before with other people, and Johnny had flinched, _hard_ , like Daniel had startled him. Daniel had taken his hand back, trying not to feel slighted. 

He was just a touchy-feely person, as his ex-wife used to say. He was always touching people when he talked to them – a hand on their shoulder, a double-handed hand shake. It was just natural, it was how he connected to people. 

Maybe Johnny just didn’t like it. 

He resolved to put it behind them to keep the peace and not mention it. He would just…keep his hands to himself from now on. 

When warmups ended and Miguel got back into line, Daniel talked the students through a new move. He stood in front of Johnny and choreographed his movements, a slowed down punch that he dodged, a kick that he caught, and then he stepped easily between Johnny’s legs and swept his other leg, knocking the larger man flat on his back. 

Johnny blinked up at him and Daniel remembered, vividly, Johnny doing almost the same move to him in the ’84 tournament, dropping over Daniel’s hips to punch him in the chest for the point. He remembered being shocked that Johnny would get that close, would tangle their legs together like that. 

And then he caught Johnny’s eyes above him, almost exactly the same as the eyes below him, wide with something that could be fear. 

He offered Johnny his hand to help him up when Hawk blurted out, “Don’t you have to hit him to get the point?” 

So Daniel did what Johnny taught him in ’84. He dropped over Johnny’s hips and gave him a pulled punch to the chest, nowhere near hard enough to hurt, and watched the flush creep up Johnny’s bare chest under his gi to his neck and then his face. 

It _had to be_ embarrassment, or he had to remember that Daniel was referencing a move from the tournament. That had to be it. 

He stood up and offered Johnny his hand and let his hand drop when Johnny didn’t take it. He stood, wiping imaginary dirt off the front of his gi pants, and Daniel tried not to notice that his hands looked like they were shaking. Because that just didn’t make sense. 

***

The bar was a new, hipster joint that Daniel normally wouldn’t go to, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He hoisted himself onto the barstool beside his ex-wife, reaching for the martini she’d ordered for him. She watched him settle, intense blue eyes taking in every detail, cataloguing, and dissecting it. 

“Thanks for meeting me,” he said, because it _did_ feel like she was doing him a favor this time, unlike the other times when they just had a glass of wine while the kids were both out. 

Amanda lifted one bare shoulder. She looked tanner than the last time he’d seen her, like she’d been in the sun. “You sounded weird on the phone,” she said frankly. “Figured I had better see what was going on before you go into a full on spiral.” 

“I don’t spiral –” he started, but Amanda fixed him with a knowing look that snapped his jaw shut. “Okay, so I _occasionally_ spiral.” 

“You do,” she agreed, pulling an olive out of her martini and biting it. “So, what did he do?” 

Daniel winced. “I didn’t say anyone did anything,” he protested. 

“Okay, but you only act like this when Johnny did something,” Amanda pointed out. “He says you get _‘bent out of shape.’_ ” 

“I don’t need to know what you two talk about on your best friend dinners,” Daniel waved his hands wildly to shake the mental picture free, Johnny laughing in a low-lit booth with his ex-wife, tan and lithe and grinning back at him, the words that were coming out of their mouth somehow both embarrassing and unintelligible to Daniel. 

The fact that they were friends alone was enough to keep him up at night. 

“It’s not like we’re having some secret meeting about you,” Amanda pointed out with a laugh. “Don’t get –”

“What, _bent out of shape_?” Daniel mocked, taking a long sip of his martini. 

Amanda put her chin on her hand and tilted her head at him. “Really, Daniel, what’s going on?” 

Once he started talking, Daniel felt silly for bringing it up at all. It was such a small thing, once it was spelled out in the amount of time it took Amanda to sip one martini dry and order another with a graceful twist of her wrist. She listened attentively, as she always did, and quirked her lips when he was done. 

“I don’t know,” he rambled when he was finished but couldn’t be silent long enough to let her talk. “Maybe he just doesn’t like to be touched –”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s the problem,” Amanda muttered into her glass. 

Daniel stopped and furrowed his brow. “What does that mean?” he asked. Amanda was so smart, the answers she presented always made sense, but not until she said them, which was what Daniel found so intriguing and infuriating about her. She was a mystery and she decoded other mysteries – at least, that’s how he explained it to Mr. Miyagi when he met her. 

“Daniel, does Johnny have a girlfriend?” she asked patiently. Oh, so she was going to make him _work_ for the answer. 

He shrugged. “Not since Carmen started dating you,” he pointed out.

“Right, and how long ago was that?” she asked. 

“Months ago,” Daniel said. “I guess.” 

“And he’s had no girlfriend, or any other type of… _friend_ , since then, right?” Amanda asked, tapping her nail on the rim of the glass. 

“Not that I know of,” Daniel replied. “What does –”

“Be patient,” she admonished. “Does Johnny hug people a lot? Put his arm around people?” 

Daniel furrowed his brow again. “No,” he said definitively. “Not unless he’s sparring.” 

Amanda waved off that little tidbit like a bad smell. “That doesn’t count,” she said matter-of-factly. “I think it’s just been a while since someone has…you know…” 

“Is this a sex joke?” 

“Daniel, it’s been a long time since someone has touched him, for God’s sake,” she exclaimed. “So when you come in with your hands on shoulders and stuff like that –”

“Oh God, you think I’m _freaking him out_?” Daniel asked, dropping his head to his hands. “I’m probably making him uncomfortable –”

“I mean, that’s possible, but he’s probably realizing that he missed it,” Amanda pointed out. “You know, being touched. People need physical contact, Daniel, you know that better than anyone.” 

Daniel considered her words, his half-drunk martini forgotten. He always considered Johnny too much of an immovable object to worry about things like not having enough hugs in a week. But he knew that if he went months without physical contact, he’d probably explode. Maybe he and Johnny weren’t as different as he thought. 

“So what do I do?” 

Amanda smirked. “That depends.” 

***

Johnny lingered uncomfortably on the porch of Daniel’s apartment, a little bachelor pad that he’d gotten after his divorce, _corporate housing on crack_ , as he liked to call it where no one could hear him. He knocked, stuffing his hands into his pockets afterward. 

Daniel had invited him over to watch a movie and talk about lesson plans, which was the first time Johnny had been invited to some kind of teacher meeting that wasn’t a rushed conversation under their breaths before training started. Either way, it had been phrased like it wasn’t a suggestion, so here he was. 

Daniel opened the door almost immediately, fast enough that Johnny wondered if he was waiting for him on the other side. “Hey,” he said, breathless, like he ran there. So maybe Johnny’s hypothesis was wrong. “Come in.” 

Johnny stepped inside, angling his shoulders away from Daniel’s body as he did. He still hadn’t really figured out the whole Daniel’s hand issue – nothing other than it was an issue he should be concerned about, so he was paranoid. Best avoid all physical contact.

“Nice place,” Johnny commented tonelessly. The place was only slightly less sterile than he anticipated, with plants on every available surface and too many cushions on the couch. Daniel directed him toward the couch with a wave of his hand – _the weapon_ – and Johnny eased himself onto it. 

“Thanks,” Daniel said like he wasn’t really listening. “Did you know _Red Dawn_ is on Netflix?” 

“On what now?” Johnny asked. 

“Netflix?” Daniel repeated, a smirk sliding up one side of his face. Johnny looked away, trying not to let the expression make him smile, too. “I’ll show you.” 

And then he plopped onto the couch beside Johnny, close enough that when he bounced, Johnny’s knee went ricocheting off Daniel’s, and Johnny tightened the muscle to keep himself still. Daniel was in shorts, so every minimal bounce on the couch sent the material inching up his thighs, so if he shifted, his bare knee and thigh would be pressed against Johnny’s. 

Which is exactly what he did when he leaned forward to get the remote, his knee pressing insistently into Johnny’s leg, burning through the denim of his jeans to the skin underneath. 

Johnny jumped like he’d been shocked, but he was plastered to the side of the couch, and there was nowhere to squirm away to, unless he wanted to get up from the couch and look like a total pussy. So he forced himself to lean back into the cushions, the warm presence of Daniel’s leg beside him distracting and all-consuming, while the other man turned on the TV and prattled on about Netflix like he didn’t know what was going on. 

But he couldn’t know, could he? Johnny didn’t even know what was going on, how could Daniel? 

He tried to put it out of his mind and watch the movie, which was just as badass as he remembered from his senior year of high school. After a while, he could almost forget that Daniel’s leg was still there, touching him. 

And then Daniel leaned back and slipped his arm around Johnny’s shoulders. 

Johnny wondered, in slow motion, if this was what being lit on fire felt like. Daniel’s arm settled on his shoulders, featherlight and gentle, but it rained down on him like Daniel was trying to distract him, trying to rile him up. 

Was it a fight he wanted? Was that it?

“How are you doing?” Daniel asked, his voice soft. 

Johnny was still spoiling for a fight, for an easy-to-resolve reason why Daniel would be touching him (that he wanted a fight was the only thing that made sense). He looked up and caught Daniel’s gaze, soft and worried in the dim light of the television, his bottom lip in his teeth. 

“I –”

He was shaking, he realized suddenly. How long had that been happening? 

“John,” Daniel’s voice pulled him back to the couch, to the present, to the confusing sensation of Daniel’s leg and his hand. “Stand up.” 

He didn’t even consider not listening. He got up obediently, his hands wooden at his side. Daniel mimicked his movement, watching Johnny closely. 

“I’m going to hug you,” he said carefully. “Don’t hit me.” 

“LaRusso –”

“Do you trust me?” 

Johnny clenched his jaw and nodded. Daniel stepped slowly into his space, close enough that Johnny had to crane his neck back to see all of him at once, and slipped his arms around Johnny’s middle, pulling their bodies flush with each other. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t put any pressure, he just held. 

For a moment, it was impossible to move. It was just…an overwhelming sensation of being touched, warm and too hot and it knocked the breath out of him, so much that he wondered if he was breathing correctly anymore, and he hadn’t moved his arms, but Daniel wasn’t letting go. 

It hit him when Daniel laid his head on his chest. He _missed this_. 

He wrapped his arms around Daniel’s shoulders, holding tightly to him, so tightly that Daniel returned some of the pressure, huffing a laugh against Johnny’s old, faded band shirt. 

He felt, wildly, like he might cry. 

After a few moments, Daniel pulled back, his hands falling onto Johnny’s upper arms. He looked up at him, brown eyes shining, and didn’t speak. He just sat back down on the couch and patted the seat beside him for Johnny to take. 

Johnny took it, noticing as he did that Daniel was giving him a respectable distance now. 

But…he didn’t want it. He felt Daniel’s phantom arms around his middle, the fading sensation of his head on his chest, the way his heart thumped wildly when it happened. He squirmed in his seat, trying to watch the movie. He could do that – he could just watch the movie without commenting on whatever the hell LaRusso had just done. 

***

Daniel settled into the couch, pleased that he’d managed to do something for Johnny without the other man deciding to punch him about it. He suppressed a smile, thinking about the way Johnny curled into him, the way his cheek landed on top of Daniel’s head, how his arms tightened like he wanted to get closer. 

Maybe that was all he needed, a hug. 

And then Johnny’s leg started going, bouncing up and down while he stared at the screen, and Daniel could tell, with a glance, that he was staring without really seeing. 

He remembered Amanda’s words. _People need physical contact, Daniel._

He considered his next move, knowing that if he calculated poorly, there would be a fight. 

He laid his hand on Johnny’s leg, palm up, and waited. 

Johnny looked down at his hand and up at Daniel’s face. Daniel stubbornly kept watching the movie, even if he’d forgotten what the hell was happening. A moment later, Johnny threaded his fingers through Daniel’s and sighed, content.

Daniel bit his lip to hide a smile. 

Johnny shifted on the couch so he was angled toward the TV, his shoulder pressing into Daniel’s, and Daniel took his cue. He released Johnny’s hand to slip his arm around Johnny’s shoulder’s again, this time pulling him back so that his back was against Daniel’s chest. Johnny practically melted against him, his head falling back and landing on Daniel’s collarbone. 

“Here, hold on,” Daniel said, pushing Johnny up so he could recline on the couch, offering Johnny the spot between his legs to lie down. 

When the movie ended, Johnny had his head on Daniel’s lap, arm wrapped around one of his legs, other hand tangled in his, breathing deeply and contently in a deep sleep against him. Daniel let the movie end and another one begin, this one some other eighties movie that he’d probably seen, and used the light to watch Johnny sleep. 

He ran his fingers through Johnny’s hair, enjoying the way Johnny shifted in his sleep at the sensation. He must have been _exhausted_ , Daniel thought pleasantly, to sleep like this. 

He wondered if this was what Amanda meant when she raised her eyebrows at him at the bar. If she had predicted this would happen. She was always smarter than them, anyway. But, Daniel thought as he ran his fingers through Johnny’s hair again, he was glad she hadn’t said anything. This was a nice enough surprise that didn’t really feel like a surprise. 

“Hey,” he nudged Johnny awake gently. “I’m going to take you to the bedroom,” he said. “So you don’t throw out your back on the couch.” 

“Pervert,” Johnny mumbled, sitting up. Blindly, he reached for Daniel’s hand again. 

“Senior citizen,” Daniel griped back at him. “Come on.” 

Johnny followed him down the little hallway, circling his arms around Daniel’s waist as they walked, his chin resting on Daniel’s shoulder. A breathless little laugh left him at the domesticity of it all. He pushed open the door and led Johnny to the edge of the bed, but the taller man refused to let him go. 

“Johnny, _come on_ ,” Daniel grumbled, trying to dislodge his arms. 

“No,” Johnny mumbled, turning them so he could fall onto the bed, pulling Daniel down with him. 

They went down in a tangled heap, far less graceful than anything they did while they sparred, Daniel cursing, Johnny laughing his quiet, sleepy laugh. Daniel wriggled free, rolling over to the other side of the bed only for Johnny to roll on top of him, holding himself up on his elbows. 

“Was this your goal all along, LaRusso?” he asked, his eyes half-lidded. “Get me into your bed with the weird sheets?” 

“They’re bamboo,” Daniel protested. “And no.” 

“Okay,” Johnny said like he didn’t believe him. “Well, I’m here now.” 

_What now_ went unsaid but not unheard. 

Daniel reached for his chin and pulled him down for a kiss, chaste and slow and tender, and Johnny breathed a shaky sigh against his mouth before fastening their lips together again, his tongue pushing Daniel’s mouth open, hungry and selfish. Daniel let him lead, holding onto his hip with a tight grip, the other hand sneaking up his shirt to his chest. 

“We don’t –” he panted, pulling away long enough for Johnny to move down to his neck, leaving what he knew would be teeth marks tomorrow. “We don’t have to do this, you know.” 

Johnny pulled back, his hair mussed and eyes bright. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked. 

The answer slipped out with no prompting. “No,” he said. Johnny gave him a curt nod and moved down to his collarbone. “But –”

Johnny groaned and pulled back again. “LaRusso. I want you to touch me. Can you do that or not?” 

He was sitting up on Daniel’s hips, his shirt askew and jeans unbuttoned (had he done that?). Daniel reached out to touch, gentle fingertips on his chest, the other hand on Johnny’s hip, pulling him closer, back down. 

“Yeah, yeah I can do that.”


End file.
